


you are safe here

by softestlesbian



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 09:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5492438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestlesbian/pseuds/softestlesbian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Course I was coming,” Zayn says, voice on the edge of a laugh, and his arms are warm and familiar when he wraps them around Louis. “Only just got back in, though, was visiting with Niall for a bit.”</p>
<p>“Niall knew I was going to get to see you and I didn’t?” Louis asks, frankly offended. He pulls back just enough to give him a glare and yank on the ends of his giant scarf. It’s only to keep him warm, to keep his hands from freezing. </p>
<p>Zayn gives him a little smile, the small thing that’s only ever been a smile for Louis, and shrugs, reaching up and playing with the same end of the scarf that Louis is touching. Their fingers brush together, and if Louis were someone else or a bit younger he’d say his heart skips a beat, but right now he insists to himself it’s only because he’s cold. “I wanted to surprise you,” Zayn says, earnest as ever, and Louis smiles a stupid sort of thing, shaking his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are safe here

**Author's Note:**

> today i was like "i want to write snowy zouis fluff" and alora delivered with this prompt, thank you
> 
> title from "the atheist christmas carol" by vienna teng
> 
> i am the only person who's read this and it's the middle of the night, sorry about that, but zouis christmastime fluff could not wait

Louis is standing on Harry and Nick’s porch, shivering in the snow and holding a giant bag of presents. They’d said they were going to leave it unlocked, but for once in his life Louis is about fifteen minutes early and suffering  _ terribly _ for it. He really should have expected this. Early bird doesn’t get the worm; early bird gets frostbite. 

“Harry!” he shouts, ringing the doorbell for what must be the fiftieth time. He can hear, faint from inside the house, Christmas music playing. Generally he’d be able to appreciate it but right now he’s going to murder both of them. Freeze them to death, he thinks with just a hint of viciousness. It’s as they deserve.

“Oi!” he hears from behind him and turns around, nearly dropping his giant bag. He does drop it, a second later, when he registers who it is. 

“You dick, you didn’t tell me you were coming,” he says when he’s basically launched himself down the two steps and into his arms, nearly slipping on the patch of ice that hasn’t quite been covered by the falling snow. He keeps his arms tight around him, pressing his cold nose against his neck as a punishment (and maybe, just maybe, because he missed him). 

“Course I was coming,” Zayn says, voice on the edge of a laugh, and his arms are warm and familiar when he wraps them around Louis. “Only just got back in, though, was visiting with Niall for a bit.”

“ _ Niall _ knew I was going to get to see you and I didn’t?” Louis asks, frankly offended. He pulls back just enough to give him a glare and yank on the ends of his giant scarf. It’s only to keep him warm, to keep his hands from freezing. 

Zayn gives him a little smile, the small thing that’s only ever been a smile for Louis, and shrugs, reaching up and playing with the same end of the scarf that Louis is touching. Their fingers brush together, and if Louis were someone else or a bit younger he’d say his heart skips a beat, but right now he insists to himself it’s only because he’s cold. “I wanted to surprise you,” Zayn says, earnest as ever, and Louis smiles a stupid sort of thing, shaking his head. 

“You’re awful,” he tells him, instead of one of the ridiculous number of things running through his mind about how endeared he is. 

Zayn just shrugs, smiling at him. “But it worked,” he says, voice quiet enough that Louis can hardly hear it over the snow swirling around them.

He looks better than he did before -- more well-rested, Louis notices, like he really needed the long holiday he’s been on. Louis has been working more and more lately, his gap year used predominantly for preparation for school next year, but Zayn’s been relaxing and it looks like it’s been good for him. 

“Come on inside,” he says, nodding toward the door and linking their fingers together, pulling him back through the snow slowly so he doesn’t slip. “Maybe now you’re here they’ll realize they’ve got guests waiting for them.”

Zayn laughs and squeezes his hand, and as they step up the door opens. 

“Hiya!” Nick says, holding Gabe in his arms and wearing a ridiculous lime green apron that Louis is nearly positive was a gift from Harry. “Come on in, lads, sorry, Harry’s setting up the guest bed for the night and we didn’t hear you.” 

As Louis steps inside, he catches out of the corner of his eye a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above the door, but he doesn’t say anything just yet; it’s not the right time, he insists, mistletoe or not he’s not going to -- not with anyone else there, not with  _ Nick _ right there. He crosses the threshold, dragging his enormous bag of gifts with him, and giggles when Gabe reaches out for him, taking him straightaway. “Hi, love,” he coos, carrying him into the living room and sitting down in front of the tree. “It’s Christmas, isn’t it?” 

“Gift?” Gabe asks, big green eyes staring at him, and Louis nods, reaching for his bag. 

“Okay,” he whispers, “I’ve got gifts for you but your daddies made me promise not to give them to you until later. But if we’re  _ really quiet _ , I think you can open one now.” 

“Okay!” Gabe yells, because he’s clearly gotten his ability to be quiet from both Harry and Nick. 

From behind him, Louis hears a little giggle. 

He turns around and smiles back at Zayn, who’s sat on the couch now, having taken off his outerwear. He’s wearing a sweater with the sleeves pushed up and Louis can see at least one tattoo that he doesn’t recognize on his arm, and he resolves to ask him about it as soon as possible; they’ve been talking nearly every day, he won’t stand for this not knowing everything there is to know about Zayn. 

“Here we are,” he says to Gabe, handing him one of the littler boxes, a toy truck that he knows Gabe doesn’t have yet.

“Harry’s going to kill you,” Zayn says conversationally, sliding off of the couch and onto the floor, scooting closer to Louis.

“Nah, he won’t. I got ‘im a thousand gifts, and anyway it’s my birthday, he can sod off,” Louis says, low enough that he doesn’t think Gabe’s heard him yet. He’s not in his lap anymore anyway, is rushing around the room on his knees with his brand new toy and shouting  _ vroom vroom! _ over and over. 

“It is your birthday, isn’t it,” Zayn says, and there it is again, there’s his Louis smile. He nods at him to come and sit with him, holding an arm out, and Louis hasn’t ever been able to resist that. 

He sits on the plush carpet next to him, knees tucked under himself and head on Zayn’s shoulder, arm around his waist. 

“Happy birthday,” Zayn says softly against his hair, pressing a light kiss there, so gentle Louis would doubt it were a thing if it didn’t make him go warm inside. 

“Thank you,” Louis says, shifting so his palm is against his chest, watching Gabe play with his new truck in front of the fireplace. This easiness is what he’s missed most of all, the way he and Zayn just fit together, similar in stature but more than that, just -- compatible. 

Louis presses his fingers very gently against his chest and he can feel his heartbeat, a steady rhythm that kicks up a little when Louis scoots closer, pressing one of his socked feet against Zayn’s leg. It’s not -- anything, not really, just a little touch. 

“Hey,” Harry says, padding to the bottom of the stairs and giving Louis a look. He’s wearing a Santa hat and a shirt with several reindeer on it; it’s not an intimidating look for him. “I told you, we weren’t doing gifts until later!”

“It’s his  _ birthday _ ,” Zayn says, because Zayn always has Louis’s back and it’s delightful. “So he wanted to give your kid a gift, is it really that bad? Look how happy it makes him.”

“Daddy!” Gabe yells, standing up and jumping for him, arms straight above his head. 

Harry laughs, bending down to pick him up, holding him on his hip. 

“Want!” Gabe yells, grabbing his hat and jamming it on his head, grinning wide and cheesy. 

Louis laughs, pressing it against Zayn’s shoulder without a thought. It’s just -- nice, being here. He forgets sometimes, when he’s caught up in applications and studying and a thousand other things, that he’s got a little family here, people he’d do absolutely anything for.

Harry carries Gabe into the kitchen, singing Silent Night at the top of his lungs, Gabe giggling underneath. 

Louis sits up a little bit to look at Zayn, smiling. “We should go help them,” he murmurs. 

“In a bit,” Zayn says quietly, tilting his head and stretching his legs out again. “Want to catch up with you for a bit. Feel like it’s been ages.”

“Two months,” Louis says, poking at one of his tattoos, a lotus flower that he’s nearly positive he hasn’t seen before. “When did you get this?”

“Just about a week ago,” Zayn says, turning his arm so Louis can see the whole thing. It’s really very intricate and pretty. Louis has long since given up wishing he had the ability to plan out his tattoos like Zayn’s, but they’re always lovely to look at. 

“Can’t believe you didn’t send me a picture of it,” Louis says, something like a joke to lighten the tension (though he might be making that up; he never knows). “It’s like I hardly know who you are anymore, Malik.”

Zayn turns his hand fast to catch Louis’s in his own, shaking his head at him with a stupid little smile on his face. “You know me,” he says, squeezing once. “Don’t worry about that.”

It’s heavy, is how it feels; Louis doesn’t know where to go from there, what to say. He just nods a bit, looking down at their linked fingers, at the edges of the lotus he can see. “I know I do,” he murmurs. 

Zayn licks his lips; Louis only barely catches it in the corner of his mind. “Hey,” he says softly, and his voice has that same weight with it. It feels like something big. “I need --”

“Dinner’s ready!” Harry yells, popping his head into the living room. He gives a surprised look to their hands and then glares at Louis, nodding back toward the kitchen. “Come on, love birds, it’s going to get cold.”

It’s nothing Harry hasn’t said a thousand times before, made fun of them for this weird intense  _ thing _ they’ve got with one another, but Zayn drops his hand fast enough that Louis is almost upset with him for it today. 

He gets up and follows Zayn into the dining room, looking at the back of his neck and very much hoping he’ll get a chance to hear what it is Zayn has to say later.

*

After dinner, when Louis has had two glasses of wine and is working on a third, sitting on the couch with his feet tucked under him and leaning against Zayn, he remembers that warm, sweet way Zayn had begun to say -- whatever it was, and he wonders for the thousandth time if tonight’s going to be the night he’s brave enough to say something, try something. Anything, really.

“Happy birthday, Louis,” Nick says, bringing a brightly colored gift to him. He’s got the Santa hat on now, much to the dismay of Gabe, who’s reaching for him, demanding it back. 

Louis grins and opens it, tossing the wrapping to the floor (much to Harry’s dismay). 

It’s a piece of art, the thing Louis wouldn’t have been able to appreciate a while back but can see the value in after knowing these two for -- god, ages. He brushes his fingers over the glass, staring at it, the intricate dark lines. 

“Do you like it?” Harry asks, sat on the floor by now but looking genuinely worried, which is. Ridiculous. 

“It’s beautiful,” Louis says, voice embarrassingly choked. “It’s -- really, really lovely, you guys, thank you so much.” He clears his throat, staring at it. It’s just -- it means a lot, is all, not so much to do with the gift itself as the sentiment. “Gonna put it on me mantle.”

Zayn squeezes his waist and Louis automatically leans back against him, gently setting the picture down next to the couch. He stretches his legs out so that they’re dangling over the arm, resting his hand on top of Zayn’s. 

Nick gives them a little look, and Louis knows exactly what it means but isn’t going to respond; not today, not on his birthday, not when he hasn’t seen his Zayn in two months and he’s only got -- shit, however long, before Zayn fucks off to another part of the world without him. 

Zayn curls his arm around him a little closer and Louis leans his head back against him, closing his eyes just for now, just for a little while. 

He dozes for a little bit, which would be embarrassing if he hadn’t seen Harry fall asleep mid-conversation and mid-meal. He wakes with a little start, sitting up and blinking around the room. 

“You’re good,” Zayn murmurs quietly into his ear, “I’ve got you.”

Louis sighs, and smiles, and sits up the rest of the way just so he can turn into their cuddle, cheek still on his shoulder. “Yeah,” he says just as softly, barely heard over the Christmas music that’s still floating through the house and Gabe’s mashing all the buttons on all of his new toys.

“And I’ve got -- your birthday present, it’s in my car,” Zayn says, sounding a little nervous. 

Louis sits up. “You got me a gift?” he asks, grinning at him.

Zayn still looks apprehensive, but maybe a little more sure of himself now. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I can -- we can go get it now?” he offers. 

“Yeah,” Louis says, getting up without another thought, honestly. He brushes all the crumbs from the biscuits off of his lap and follows Zayn out the door, forgoing his coat. 

He regrets it as soon as he gets outside, because it’s  _ freezing _ . “Fuck!” he yelps, burrowing against Zayn’s side and turning his face away from the blizzard. 

“Do you want to grab a jacket?” Zayn asks, amused. 

“No!” Louis insists. “Come on, give me my present, I want to know what it is. Now.” 

“Yes, sir,” Zayn says, and he keeps his arm tight around him as they stomp through the snow over to Zayn’s car. 

It takes a couple of smacks of his hip against the door to get the ice unstuck but Louis manages it after a second, scrambling into the car, blowing into his hands and rubbing them on his legs. 

Zayn gets into the car just a second after he does, looking at Louis for a minute.

“Well?” Louis asks. “Is it dirty, s’that why we had to get in the car?” He grins, looking in the backseat to see if he spies any presents. “Or, ooh, is it something  _ fancy _ ?”

“No, you wanker, just --” Zayn sighs, and it comes out as a puff of white smoke. “All right. It’s not a, like, physical present as such.”

Louis nods slowly. “Is it invisible?” he asks, very serious. 

Zayn rolls his eyes, shoving his shoulders. “No! Just -- I’m moving back home,” he says. “Like, for good this time.”

“No more traveling?” Louis asks. 

He shakes his head. 

“Alright,” Louis says slowly. “Much as I appreciate your company and everything, I --”

“I want us to live together again,” Zayn says. “Like we used to do, want -- you and me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Louis says softly, a stupid sort of hope blooming through him. “You mean it, then? You’re gonna move in with me?”

“Well, I was hoping we could look at flats together,” Zayn says. “I’ve got this job lined up, and it’s doable from the place where you’re at now, but there’s the one bedroom and --”

“Absolutely,” Louis says as fast as he can. “Whatever you like, we can talk about in the morning.” His heart’s going about a thousand beats a minute, god. “Can’t believe your Christmas gift to me is your  _ presence _ back in my life,” he says, reaching out to poke his cheek and ending up sort of cupping it instead. Ah, well. 

“It’s more than that!” Zayn insists. “I’ve lived with you before, I know how it works. I’m gonna do all the cooking and cleaning since you keep your place an absolute tip.”

“ _ That _ is bullshit,” Louis tells him, voice flat. “I’ve seen the way you live now, you’re no better than me. Worse, even, you throw your shit everywhere.” 

Zayn’s grin is stupid and blinding, and Louis has certainly been happier than he is in this moment, freezing his bum off in a car, but he can’t remember any of those times. 

“I was actually hoping -- well, I’ve got all my stuff at my mum’s,” Zayn says slowly, looking at him. “I was hoping I could stay with you until we find a place? I’ll stay on the couch if you like, I don’t mind.” 

“Y’can share the bed with me, come off it,” Louis insists, waving a hand. “And -- yeah, of course, stay forever.” He grins at him to hopefully soften the seriousness of what he’s just said, but he thinks he just ends up looking more fond than anything else. 

“All right,” Zayn says, still grinning at him. He nods back toward the house. “Shall we make a run for it, then?”

“We shall, it’s fucking freezing,” Louis tells him, gearing up to open his door. He waits for Zayn to get out first so he can just run after him, grabbing his hand as soon as he can. 

When they’re on the porch he makes a snap decision, stopping Zayn with a hand on his arm and pointing up to the mistletoe. “Tradition,” he says very seriously, tilting his head a little. 

Zayn’s lips are parted, a little, and he looks up at the mistletoe and then back at Louis, nodding. “Can’t break tradition,” he agrees, stepping closer, hand dropping to Louis’s waist. 

Louis tilts his head a little more, leaning in. “Think Santa would kill us if we didn’t,” he mumbles just before he kisses him, a soft, tentative sort of thing, hand still on Zayn’s arm, grounding himself there. It’s one of the sweetest first kisses he’s ever had, and when he pulls back his heart is racing in the best sort of way.

Zayn’s eyes drop to his mouth and he leans in for another kiss, hand curving around to fit at the small of his back, tugging him in a little. This one’s a bit more solid, a surer thing, and Louis reaches up to cup his cheek, leaning into it, puffing out a quiet breath when they part. 

Zayn looks up at the mistletoe and then back at Louis again, and there’s -- maybe a question in his eyes as he backs them up, three big steps away, at the corner of the porch.

Louis frowns a little bit. “Zayn?” he tries, quiet. 

“Not quite tradition now, is it,” Zayn says, just as soft, meant just for him. His hand is still warm against his back. 

And,  _ oh _ . It clicks, then. “Not quite,” he agrees, tilting his chin up again, a quiet invitation. “Just because I want to, I think.”

Zayn grins at him, turning to press it against his palm as well as a gentle kiss. “Good thing I do as well, then,” he tells him, leaning in for another soft kiss. 

Louis is chilled to the bone by this point but he’d spend hours out here if it meant he got to kiss Zayn a million times over, but -- there are people inside, and tonight they’ll be blessedly alone and together, and -- he doesn’t want to get carried away right now, is the thing. “Come on,” he whispers against his mouth, turning it into another kiss. “They’ll be waiting for us, think we’ve gone and done something improper.”

“Mm, they can fuck off,” Zayn mumbles into that kiss, both arms at his waist now, gently pinching his side. 

“ _ Language _ ,” Louis chides, giggling a minute.

Zayn rolls his eyes but guides him into another kiss, and then another, and in the end it’s another moment before Louis can think to drag himself away. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm llucifered on both twitter and tumblr!


End file.
